


His Butler, Possessive

by BitterWhore



Series: Black Butler: Those Things Implied [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Auction, Black Markets, Broken Bones, Bruises, Brutality, Choking, Hair-pulling, Insults, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2225319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterWhore/pseuds/BitterWhore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Viscount Druitt is a likely suspect in the Jack the Ripper case. Naturally, a part is attended. Ciel is able to wear what he wishes, for once, much to his delight.</p><p>There is a game to be played, and no matter what moves the viscount makes, Ciel has a piece on the board none can beat. The vermin, amusing though they might be, will be... exterminated.</p><p>Hell hath no fury like a butler doing his job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Butler, Possessive

The secret has been well kept. Dance lessons, proper manners, learning how to walk in these shoes… It all worked together well with Ciel's natural affinity for female clothing and his butler's lovely skill at doing make up. Of course he was secretly delighted to wear such a thing in public, to have the option of being how he would naturally prefer to be. Getting to choose his own dress and be discerning about his outfit without arousing suspicion, well.  
That was a major bonus.  
Now it all comes down to this. Has the viscount been fooled? The tall, gorgeous man is standing right by. Every little lie is part of the much bigger lie that weaves a delicate net in an attempt to capture a spider like that spider might capture a fly. Of course, the viscount is careful and clever.  
Ciel can't help but be taken in this moment by his eyes, things of apparent violet. And his mannerisms, his clothing.  
Despite the Earl Phantomhive's preferences towards his most skillful butler, the viscount is frankly rather attractive. That much is incontrovertible. There is a light blush touching the young lord's cheeks, primarily due to the strain of dancing so vigorously and for such a length of time - but also because the viscount has kissed his hand.  
Or, her hand.  
One must keep up appearances. Thinking of himself as female, while natural, will help him keep playing the part proper.  
What did the viscount ask?  
"I do hope you're enjoying the party."  
"Oh yes, certainly! It's a wonderful party but… my lord, I've been waiting to speak with you all evening!" Ciel says, keeping her tone even for the time being.  
"Oh?" Druitt asks, voice smooth like silk. He wears a small smile, one of amusement.  
"I'm bored to death of dancing and eating!" Ciel tells him, throwing just a little bit of pout into his voice. His butler, vigilant, frowns ever so slightly. To see the young master debase himself so for another man is frustrating, to say the least. But, she has a duty to perform, and if there is one thing Ciel Phantomhive is serious about, it is duty.  
The viscount's smile grows just a little, turning from amusement to what might well be excitement of a darkest sort.  
"What a spoiled princess you are, little robin," he drawls, leaning close. He feels the young woman in her pink and black dress stiffen slightly, surprise evident in the micro-expressions she makes. He allows his hand to move downward, watching her face redden as it does. His amusement only grows, becoming even evident in his silky tone. "Looking for something more… entertaining?"  
Ciel struggles to keep her cool, her face positively burning. Were it not for her makeup, she might be visible from a good distance like some kind of hot crimson beacon.  
Sebastian's frown deepens. The viscount, he is sure, has ideas for what will be coming next that Ciel may well find pleasing with her darker predilections, but the butler is not the most pleasant man when the idea of sharing his master is posed.  
Ciel presses her back to him, playing the part out. Her eyes fall closed a moment and she wears the smallest smile. She must endure it, this embarrassment and uncomfortable but powerful desire. You can do this, she tells herself.  
After all those horrible, horrible lessons… horrible because they were merely for show since Ciel was already familiar with acting as a lady… she is sure she can handle it.  
So she turns, preparing to speak. So close to the viscount, the scent of his cologne is present. It's something vaguely masculine, with some kind of undertone of leather below a citrus and floral sort of scent touched gently by vanilla. It's intoxicating, delightfully different from Sebastian's overtly masculine scent.  
"You know of other amusements? I'd be most interested!"  
"Of course," Druitt responds happily, inches from Ciel's face. A gloved hand rises to gently hold her chin in place. "I'd be happy to show them to you, robin… my sweet little thing."  
An electric sensation washes over Ciel's body, making her feel overtaken wit the shock. He is good, no doubt. Very good at what he does. Even knowing he is likely a monster, he's so suave it's hard to resist his charms.  
When this is all over, I swear… I am going to kill this bastard, the young mistress things, maintaining her composure on the outside. No man with this level of skill who wishes to use such abilities for darker purposes ought to be allowed free, that much is certain.  
"Oh really, like what?"  
The young lord decides he must discover the viscount's secret before the dance is over, less his betrothed come sprinting across the dance floor to admire her lovely pink dress. Ciel cannot risk Elizabeth seeing him.  
"You want to know?" he murmurs.  
"Yes! I am simply dying to, my lord."  
"You might be a bit young yet."  
"Now don't tease me, my lord. I'm a lady, not a little girl," Ciel protests, still wearing her mild smile.  
The dance is over. Ciel glances aside to see his betrothed heading their way. The viscount firmly grips her chin once more, forcing the Earl Phantomhive to look right at him. Mercifully, the hat set askew and her hair in the way covers her contract marked eye quite well.  
"What has you so distracted, my delightful butterfly?"  
"I-It's nothing, my lord."  
This is it. My life is over.  
A resounding boom brings cries of surprise then shocked quiet. Sebastian has come to the rescue to preserve his young lord's reputation and standing. A magic trick will be performed.  
"I don't recall scheduling any parlor tricks this evening," Druitt says thoughtfully, looking mildly confused.  
"My lord, I've seen more than enough parlor tricks. Please, I beg of you, can we go?" Ciel asks.  
"Yes, of course. Anything for you, my sweet robin."  
And so the pair steals away to a darkened landing before an equally darkened stair. They stand there a moment before the viscount gestures.  
"Right this way, my dear."  
Nervous, Ciel heads up the stairs and through a curtain. They move down a corridor, and then through a wooden door into a room with odd violet light.  
"We're going somewhere I think you'll find quite… interesting," Druitt murmurs. Ciel's mind is immediately foggy, lost in some odd scent in the room that seems suffocating. She stumbles and falls back against the door, sliding down it. The Earl Phantomhive's bright blue eye slides up to meet the eyes of the viscount, her pupil dilated. "You see, I am afraid the entertainment is of a more… amusing sort this night. Amusing for me of course."  
"W-What… what is… what d-do you…" Ciel stammers, mind sluggish as the Viscount Druitt seizes her arms and hoists her up. She is moving then, and unable to keep track of where she is going until a cold surface meets her cheek and she realizes she is bent over a table.  
"If I am to auction you, I must be aware of the quality of my merchandise, my little robin," Druitt tells her. There is the sound of cloth moving and a belt being undone. "I admit your tone was so innocent and oblivious, but I know what you expected. 'Other entertainments' and 'other amusements,' my dear? Of course there are plenty to be found."  
"W-Why bother… drugging me…?" Ciel murmurs, struggling to look back. "It's not as if… I am unwilling… for this part at least. You might find… I-I too possess other amusements. Surprises."  
"Oh we shall see about that," Druitt retorts, shoving the dress and fluff up and out of the way to expose a pair of rather surprisingly lacy black panties. There is a small bulge visible, the bulge made by the young Earl's 'surprise.' "Oh, well. That is a surprise, I will admit. Bravo, little robin. But this changed nothing. You will not be the first deviant I have sold."  
"I would… expect no less," Ciel manages, feeling still dizzy and sleepy. "Get on with your merchandise testing then, you bastard."  
"Oh my. Sharp tongue on you, little robin. Let us see how rude you are when I am inside of you."  
The viscount drags her panties down without much ceremony, tearing the delicate material. His own undergarments are drawn down, exposing the arousal that was already hard. A bit of pre is visible smeared on his tip, adding slickness. Being one for indulging in a quantity of cruelty, he presses his arousal to her entrance, unconcerned with further lubrication.  
Much to his surprise, he finds her rather easy to push into. A gasping little noise passes her lips as inch by inch he is buried within her hot depths. Even with the drugging, her small cock twitches, firming up quite quickly.  
"My my, so easy to enter. A loose little robin… how many have you taken inside you," he demands, reaching down to drag her hat painfully off without bothering to deal with clips or other nonsense. Fingers lace into her hair and then grip tight, pulling her head back and bringing another small, whimpering gasp.  
"J-Just one, you bastard," Ciel spits, barely holding any composure now. "But… m-many times."  
"Likely story, whore," the viscount tells her, voice still as smooth as silk itself. He bottoms himself out in her, shocking her with his rather above average size - or so Ciel thinks. Perhaps his butler, terminally sly, mislead him on the sizes of most men.  
These thoughts are banished as the viscount draws back and then slams forward again viciously, hips slapping against the young Earl's rather feminine ass. There's now no thought in the young mistress's head save for the heat inside of her and the throbbing of her own small, dripping cock.  
Slowly, the viscount withdraws and then slams back in viciously, hands gripping her hips so hard his nails dig in.  
"F-Faster," Ciel begs, voice as high and feminine as ever. "P-Please, faster."  
"My, my. Get a cock in you and almost that very second you're begging for more. You will sell so very well, little whore," the viscount mutters breathlessly. "I suppose… I can give you what you beg for."  
When he draws back this time, it is much faster and his slamming in is much harder and more violent. He sets a feverish pace, pounding her with every ounce of viciousness and strength he can muster - which is no small amount, to be sure. The table slams against the wall as if to punctuate each thrust with a bang. Ciel's cries are not ignored. She is much louder and much more conscious than most when drugged, surprising the viscount. Angry, he reaches up and grips her hair tight once more before lifting her head and slamming it into the table.  
"Quiet down, you whore!" he hisses breathlessly, struggling to keep his calm.  
"I-I… d-don't know if I can!" Ciel cries, prompting her head to be viciously slammed into the table again. Blood weeps from her nose, bright red against the dark surface and odd looking in the strange colored light. Still, she moans out loudly and lets out shocked cries. Growing even angrier, the viscount slams her head into the table again, which unfortunately does nothing.  
Irate, he pauses in his thrusting to reach down and grab his belt. When he stands upright once more, the belt is looped about the earl's throat and pulled tight.  
She gags and chokes, weakly struggling as he continues in his pounding.  
"Now you are quiet, I see," he half growls, tugging tighter. "I will have to make it clear to whoever buys you that a gag of some kind is a worthwhile investment, you harlot."  
In response, Ciel struggles harder. Her little cock throbs with every one of the viscounts inward motions. Her struggles do nothing, however. He is stronger. His grip on the belt is tight and his arm strong. It's all she can do now to maintain consciousness, even as the pressure in her groin seems to grow. It's odd and disturbing to her, discovering she likes this, but it is no surprise. A high level of depravity is not a shock to someone who brought forth a demon from perdition.  
The belt tightens every time the viscount yanks harder, bruising the Earl's neck. Blood vessels burst underneath her eyes, forming freckle like spots of red scattered across her face. In the eye not marked by the contract, a blood vessel bursts, reddening the white and making the bruises present from her head slamming into the table repeatedly look that much worse, as if the burst blood vessel in her eye is some kind of effective accent piece.  
"I'm afraid I cannot… last much longer, little robin. That I suspect is good, however. I wouldn't want to kill you," Druit hisses, redoubling his efforts after. The pain and pleasure and desperation and terror mix until Ciel cannot take it anymore. Ashamed as she is, she allows her orgasm to hit. Every muscle in her body tenses. Her inner muscles grip and release repeatedly on his cock while spurts of cum splatter on the floor. "Oh… my goodness. You are just a treat, whore."  
Approximately the same time as Ciel's body goes limp, the viscount releases the belt and slams in one last time, grinding his hips against her ass as his own cock throbs with every spurt of cum. Dissapointing to Ciel, his load is not nearly as large as Sebastian's - but it will do, considering.  
The viscount withdraws, panting, and drags the belt off of her neck. His grip in her hair tightens again, and he throws her to the floor before straddling her. Her eyes are rolled back, her mouth open, with fluid leaking out. The bruising is impressive, severe, especially about her neck - but to his buyers, the heterocromia will more than make up for the way he handled the goods.  
"Unconsicous, finally. Good."

Ciel regains consciousness and finds herself, or himself, as the part to be played has been played out, bound and seated with his back against the bars of some kind of cage. A blindfold blocks all sight.  
"And now what you have all been waiting for! Tonight's crown jewel!" The viscount says loudly. A cloth is withdrawn, showing the now cleaned up Ciel. Half of his face is bruised, though the swelling has had time to go down a bit. His neck too shows the marks of the brutal sexual encounter. Murmuring from the cround sounds… positive. Excited. "I'm sure she would make a lovely decoration, or sweet little pet. Having tested her depravity myself, I can tell you that this one packs extra in her panties and will take anything you dish out with pleasure! You can keep her whole and healthy, or sell her for parts! Modify her even to suit your needs. Arms and legs are such… unnecessary things in a toy, I often think. Her eyes are two different colors, but for the discerning collector, that will add to her unique attraction. Bidding will begin momentarily."  
A realization hits the still mildly dazed Ciel.  
A black market auction? So that is what he's doing? He removes the prostitute's organs and sells them at his parties?  
Ciel remains still, tilting his head forward as someone works to untie his blindfold.  
"We'll start at a thousand!" the viscount says as the cloth is withdrawn. Ciel stares out at the masked audience for a moment before smiling just a little. People are already bidding.  
"Sebastian! My game is finished. I have had my fun. Come and get me now," the young master says firmly.  
All candles lighting the room go out. There are sounds of motion and impacts and rapid motion, and then the candles light once more. Sebastian holds druid in hand, by the throat. The viscounts eyes are bulging, his face reddening as he struggles madly to get free of the impossibly strong grip.  
"Really young master? Are you good for nothing save for getting yourself kidnapped?" the butler asks derisively. "And playing with such vermin… it is below you. May I kill this rat?"  
"No, you may not. Knock him out, but do not end his life," Ciel orders. "Perhaps the Queen will allow me to keep him in our basement. It would be fun to have my own toy."  
"You grow more and more disturbing every day, my lord," Sebastian says, his cruel smile returning. As if casting aside a piece of garbage, he throws the lord viscount against the wall. The white clad man lays limply then, on the floor where he belongs. "It is… truly lovely, watching you ripen so."  
The butler grips the bar sand spreads them open, pulling his young master free and severing the ropes binding him with a flick of a finger.  
"Sebastian, I must say… I do prefer you over that vermin. He was merely a plaything."  
"Of course, my lord. I am more than aware. And I, naturally, will be by your side until the very end," the butler replies, smiling.  
"Yes. Well, I suppose this solves the 'Jack the Ripper' case."  
"Yes. I suppose Scotland Yard will be here before too long. It is time we take our leave."  
The butler, strong beyond measure, takes his young master in his arms and heads to the balcony. For a moment both peer at the full, bright moon above and then the butler chuckles at nothing at all.  
"Are you ready, miss?"  
"I am."  
So the butler leaps with grace from the balcony, landing on the rooftop opposite. There is but a moments pause and he leaps again. A very confused Elizabeth stares at the rooftop, sure she just saw something utterly baffling - but it must be exhaustion and the lateness of the hour, she is sure.


End file.
